


From Dawn to Dusk

by nerddowell



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5+1 Things, Hydra (Marvel), Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 05:24:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4292346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerddowell/pseuds/nerddowell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 5 + 1 Stucky fic. Five times Steve couldn't tear his eyes off of Bucky, and one time Bucky couldn't stop staring at Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Dawn to Dusk

**1.** Honestly, he can't get mad about a visit to the dance hall, even when it's as crowded, as bright and full and smoky as it always is. Because a trip to the dance hall comes with those blue-grey eyes crinkling as Bucky flashes that devil-may-care grin at girl after girl. It comes with the pleasure of watching him sweep the ladies off their feet, legs hidden behind the flares of skirts, lipsticked mouths, mascara'd eyes gazing up at Bucky with that familiar expression of coy want. And honestly, Steve doesn't mind that it's not him out there on the floor, out there holding them close to sway to the music. He doesn't have the coordination for it.

He's happy just to watch Bucky.  
  


* * *

  
**2.** They're in Prospect Park one evening, ambling home at a snail's pace - Steve's pace, Bucky charitably shortening the strides of his much longer legs - and talking. Bucky's got his uniform on again, cap under his arm, hair neatly slicked back and eyes bright under the moonlight. Steve is looking up at him the way he has to look up at everyone, but with Bucky, it doesn't seem to bother him as much. There's too much there to enjoy seeing, to allow the height difference to bug him.

Things like Bucky's eyes, quicksilver under the scattered stars, and his lips, full and red as any dame's.  
  


* * *

**  
3.** Finding Bucky strapped to that table in the Hydra base, eyes unfocused, murmuring to himself, and Steve thought he was going to have his first heart arrhythmia since the serum. It jumped and skittered in his chest as he approached the table, ripping Bucky's restraints away with his bare hands - always in awe of all his newfound strength - and gazing intently into his face. He's missed him, more than anyone. There's no Ma for him back in Brooklyn anymore, so Bucky's the only piece of home he's got. Those eyes, like mercury. Cold and hot and bright and dull all at once.

"Steve," Bucky whispers, and his face breaks into a smile like the sun breaking through clouds.  
  


* * *

   
**4.** "Let's hear it for Captain America!" Bucky yells beside him, and Steve blinks before smiling softly, shyly, like he's still that little kid from Brooklyn who's always getting beaten up in back alleys and parking lots. He turns his head to see his best friend gazing at him, strong jaw set firm, chin tilted up, eyes glowing fire-bright with pride. Bucky has never had to tell Steve when he's done something right; all Steve's got to do is look at that smile curving one side of Bucky's full lips up slightly, the gleam in his eyes, and the way he's holding himself to know in his gut that that scrawny boy from Brooklyn done good.  


* * *

**  
5.** The wind from the train's passage through the Alps whips their hair against their faces, cheeks and noses burning with the cold. Steve is, at this point, almost sure that his hand has quite literally frozen onto the rail he's holding with one hand, the other desperately reaching out to Bucky. Bucky's face is drawn with fear, whole body hanging off the splintering rail from only one clenched fist - and Steve's never noticed how tiny, how slender those fingers are, how weak normal people are, even Bucky who was always so strong - and just as their fingertips brush, the railing gives way.

Bucky's face, eyes wide with fear and disbelief, is the last thing he sees disappearing into the freezing mountain mist, the scream echoing off the snow and reverberating inside his chest.  
  


* * *

**  
1.** The shield, red and white and blue, perfectly American, falls through one of the many cracks in the disintegrating hull as the Target drops it. The Soldier hears him speak, "I won't fight you" - so the Soldier will have it easy - "you're my friend." The Soldier does not have friends. He has orders, and he has targets. Nothing more, and nothing less. The world is narrowed to the person he is told to kill, and the time frame he's given to do it. There's no space for friends in that world.

The Asset's fist is raised above the bruised, beaten face, ready to end the mission once and for all, when the first words out of the Captain's mouth rattle his resolve. There's a familiarity in the blue eyes that drags a smoky, crowded past out of the ice the Soldier was buried in. The memories get faster as they're defrosted - flashes, like a strobe light, like a malfunctioning movie reel - A dance hall... a boy on a porch, scrawny, with a black eye. A funeral. A man's hand on the same boy's shoulder, a hand like his - only not. A man's mouth - _his_ mouth - moving, shaping the words, his own voice speaking through Captain America's, _Steve's_ , "I'm with you til the end of the line."

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave prompts at [my tumblr](http://youaremvmission.tumblr.com)!


End file.
